


Is it pretending, if I really do love you?

by Krisil



Category: Bleach
Genre: Captain Rukia - Freeform, F/M, Fake Dating, Lieutenant Ichigo, Slightly crack, canonverse minus ending, fake dating by accident, i hope it makes y'all lol, non ending compliant, the way bleach is canonically cracky, this fic is my fun fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krisil/pseuds/Krisil
Summary: Rukia cannot take it anymore. Ichigo becoming her lieutenant has unforeseen consequences that include but are not limited to women hiding in the men's washroom, abandoning their post to spy on his training, and interrupting Rukia's lunch to ask if he's single. Rukia, being the genius captain that she is, comes up with the perfect plan to get her division back on track.Ichigo must pretend to have a girlfriend.Her one mistake, in retrospect, is not specifying who.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 29
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

If anyone asked, she made it very clear that it was not her idea. It was not her idea, because unlike those whose idea it actually _was,_ she had the intelligence to predict that making Kurosaki Ichigo a Lieutenant would go terribly wrong. When the idea had been proposed, she had even told them this, explicitly. Kurosaki Ichigo was what mother nature created when she decided that lightning, hurricanes, and earthquakes were not destructive enough; Kurosaki Ichigo was a doomsday device with a consciousness and a tendency to act first, think later. Had they listened to her? Of course, they didn’t 

Instead, they made him _her_ lieutenant. 

_You’re the only one he listens to_ , they had said. Never in her life had she come so close laughing in the face of her superiors as she had at that moment. She knew better. He didn't listen to her, it was rather that statistically it was bound to happen that he did what he liked, and it also happened to be what she asked. Correlation did not always equal causation, she wanted to tell them. 

“They” in actuality, was Kyoraku Shunsui, and if he valued his life he would sleep with one eye open. Captain Commander or not. 

It was his fault that she had ended up in the situation she was in, after all. 

Sixty-two percent. 

That was how much the number of female transfer requests for the thirteenth division had increased since Kurosaki Ichigo had been appointed lieutenant. It had taken her two weeks to notice the sudden increase, and connect the dots. According to Nemu Kurosutchi’s calculations, including the female recruits from the academy, it had resulted in eighty-nine more female shinigami than there would have been without him. 

Normally, Rukia wouldn't have a problem with this. After all, she was a woman herself. As it was, however, it seemed that since Ichigo had been deemed with the title of _World Saviour_ , he had gained a newfound effect on women. This new superpower gave him the ability to render them effectively useless. They would merely stare at him, mouths slightly agape, eyes wide as dinner plates. 

It had gotten to the point where Ichigo was no longer allowed to train on division grounds because half her division would abandon their posts to watch on the off chance that he took off his shirt. Ichigo’s quarters were now the only room in the division that remained locked at all times after she caught a woman stealing his _dirty laundry._ She had to hold any division meeting twice, once for Ichigo alone, and once for the rest of the division, because if he was even in the room her words would simply fall upon deaf ears. 

The worst part was: Ichigo hadn't even noticed. 

When Rukia had said that him becoming part of the seireitei had been a bad idea, she hadn’t anticipated that it would be because she would burn it to the ground. But the fact of the matter was that she had had enough. It had to come to an end. 

That was how she found herself barrelling into his office, one sunny afternoon after the third woman of the day had come into her quarters during her lunch break for the sole purpose of asking if he was single. 

“You have a girlfriend now.” Were the first words that tumbled out her mouth, slightly breathless. 

Ichigo’s hand stilled where it hovered over a document awaiting his signature. He peered at her from beneath curious brows. “Um. Okay?”

How she hadn’t thought of it before she couldn’t believe. If Ichigo had a girlfriend, there would be no reason for anyone to fawn over him. Of course, it was a lie, and Rukia didn’t like to consider herself a liar, but it was what was best for the division. She had no qualms telling a silly white lie if it made her a better Captain. 

“Perfect.” She told him, turning on her heels to head back to her office with a newfound bounce in her step. 

It was only a few hours later, at dinner when she finally got to see her master plan at work. 

Kageyama Ume was a beautiful woman. The kind of woman that would have been on posters in the living world, consisting of more lengthy legs, than anything else. She spoke the way that the wind felt on a hot summer's day, soft and airy. 

Just as Rukia had been about to leave where she and Ichigo had been eating together, her plate finished, she had looked up to find Kageyama standing over her. For all it was worth, Rukia might as well have been invisible. Kageyama’s eyes only saw Ichigo. 

“Hmm? What’s up, Ume?” Asked Ichigo, around a mouthful of rice. 

Kageyama’s hands curled into the sleeves of her shihakushou nervously. When she spoke it was with a slight stutter: “Kurosaki-san, I was wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime?”

Ichigo’s chopsticks hovered, halfway to his mouth. When he looked from Kageyama to Rukia, she could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “I would love to, but I actually have a girlfriend.” 

If the dining hall had been quiet before, it was silent then. 

Kageyama’s cheeks burned brilliant red, staining her pale face. Her hands fell to her side in defeat. “Who?” She choked. 

To those who didn’t know him, Ichigo’s expression would have shown nothing more than that of empathy. The thing was, Rukia _did_ know him. She knew that man like the blade she held in her hand during battle. He had part of her soul, after all. So when a glimpse, a _glint,_ of mischievousness shimmered in his eyes, she knew better than to think she imagined it. 

“Rukia.”

In retrospect, she should have known the moment he agreed so easily that he had an ulterior motive. 

After all, he never listened to her. 

  
  


The moment her office doors closed, Ichigo burst into laughter that Rukia was certain would have lasted an eternity had he not ran out of air in his lungs. He spent twenty whole minutes recovering, holding his sides in a way that looked nearly painful.

“Did you see their faces?” He gasped. 

She had, indeed, seen their faces. Rukia had watched as every jaw in the dining hall had unhinged onto their dinner plates. Several women had clutched at their chest the way that middle-aged men do when a lifetime of fast food finally caught up with them as if their hearts had stopped beating in their chests. A wave of audible gasps had emerged from the onlooking crowd. Apparently, her division felt no shame in eavesdropping. 

“Are you an idiot?” She asked him, genuinely concerned. He had to be. There was no other explanation for it.

“Are you?” He retaliated through a newfound wave of laughter, “This was your idea, you know.”

“This was not what I meant, and you know it.” All she had wanted him to do was pretend that he had a girlfriend. A faceless, nameless, pretend girlfriend that served the simple purpose of returning her division to its normal function. Was that really so much to ask?

He truly had no idea what he had just done.

“Well,” He said as if he truly didn’t grasp the seriousness of the situation he had just created. “You didn’t really give me all that much instruction.” 

As if he would have listened, even if she had. She sighed, and sank down onto the cushion behind her desk, mourning her pipe dream for having a functional division. “All I wanted was for all the women to stop pining over you so that they can focus on their work.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “No one was ever pining over me.” he insisted. 

“I had to reprimand a woman for following you into the men’s room last week, remember?”

He made a pinched face at her. “She did not _follow_ me into the restroom. It was an accident.”

“Then why did she have to be forcibly removed?” 

“Still,” he said, with a dismissive shake of his head, “Those women don’t know me. I don’t understand why they all think that they’re in love with me.”  
Of course, he didn’t get it. He was the only person on the planet that didn’t know just how attractive he was. Although Rukia hated to admit it, Ichigo had grown into quite the man in the years that she had known him. Even if one were to forget about the fact that he had stopped Aizen, and Ywach, and was arguably the strongest man in the Seireitei, he would still be criminally gorgeous. He was all hard lines, tan skin, and whiskey coloured eyes. 

“Well,” She resigned. “There’s no turning back now.” there was only one thing left to be done.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You told our entire division that we were dating. You can't just take it back.”

“Uh, yes I can?”

“And what will you tell Kageyama? ‘Sorry, it was just a joke. No, I still don’t want to go out with you’”  
Ichigo paled visibly at the idea. Even he wasn’t heartless. After a moment he asked, “Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

“We have to pretend to date.”

  
  



	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia and Ichigo’s first week as a “couple” goes swimmingly, until Renji pays a visit to the thirteenth.

Pretending to date your lieutenant was more complicated than it sounded, apparently. Especially when one forgets exactly how fast news travelled in the seireitei. By dawn the next morning there wasn’t a single soul who didn’t know that Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo were dating. 

Rukia wanted to laugh out loud when even she and Ichigo’s mutual friends appeared to fall for the rumour along with everyone else. By lunch the next morning, she had received messages from Matsumoto, Urahara (how he found out, she’ll never know), Hinamori, and Nanao. All essentially saying the same thing: _Finally_. Rukia found this both concerning and somewhat hilarious.

At first, the idea had seemed horrible. Quite possibly the worst idea she had ever had. But the more that Rukia thought about it, she found that it was looking more and more ingenious. Not only would her division finally be at peace, But the look on their friend’s faces would be worth it in the end once they realized that she and Ichigo pulled such a prank. All her and Ichigo had to do was act as if they were dating for an acceptable amount of time before they amicably broke up. The shiny newness of Ichigo would have worn off by then, and they could reveal it to their friends that it had all been a ruse and none would be the wiser. 

To her surprise, even Ichigo agreed--Well, to a degree. There were certain things that they remained on different pages about.

“Fuck no.” 

“Don’t be difficult, Ichigo.” 

The look that Ichigo gave her then was full of mirth. Any sane person might have baulked at the expression, especially coming from a man as powerful as Ichigo. Rukia knew better. Ichigo might be able to move mountains with the force of his swing, but he had never been able to force _her_ to do anything. The other way around, however…

“Is it really so awful?” she asked him, feigning hurt. Schooling her face with an expression that she hadn’t adorned since she pretended to be an exchange student at Karukura High. Batting her long lashes up at him, letting her bottom lip slip out in the tiniest amount of a pout.

He pointed a finger at her, nearly between her eyes. “Don’t even try. You know that fake shit never worked on me.”

Well, it had been worth the try. She chuckled at the dark expression he cast her. “All I’m asking you to do is _hold my hand_ , Ichigo.” 

“It’s the principle of it.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

She raised one well-manicured eyebrow at him. “Need I remind you, that you’re the one who decided it would be a good idea to name me as your girlfriend, in the first place.” 

“I just think that if we were really dating--“ he cut himself off abruptly as if realizing the implications of his own words. That at one point or another he had given thought to what they would be like if they really did date. “Not that we ever would,” he interjected hastily.

Rukia couldn’t help but notice the tinge of pink that bloomed across his tan cheeks. 

“But if we did.” He continued, “We wouldn’t walk around holding hands like lovesick fools. At least not in front of the entire division.” 

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “Fine.” there was a possibility that he had a point. “At least come eat lunch with me. Can you manage that?”

The grin he gave her was crooked and her chest filled with warmth at the sight of it. 

“I’ll try my best. But it’ll be difficult.”

She swatted his shoulder with no real force. “Fool.”

Rukia had become used to people staring when she went anywhere with Ichigo. The hushed whispers that followed them were always the same. Occasionally she would catch the odd bits and pieces spoken slightly too loud. _He’s part Quincey, Hollow, and Shinigami. He had to leave the living world because he was too powerful. The strongest shinigami to ever exist. He’s died like three times but keeps coming back to life._ She knew that Ichigo could hear them too, though he never said anything. 

Heads turned as they entered. Now, however, all eyes seemed to be on her. The majority of those gazes, scathing and female. More than anything she wanted to bite out-- _I am the Captain of your division, show some damn respect._

The dining hall was nothing special. Barely more than a large room made up of slate concrete walls, filled with rows of long tables and matching benches of dark wood. Yet it was almost always the loudest room in the entire division aside from the training facilities at the hour eleven through noon. When Rukia had become captain, she had made a promise to herself that she would eat her lunch with the members of her division every day. Just as Captain Ukitake had before he’d gotten too sick. Ichigo had never asked why she was so particular about this one thing, this one ritual. When he became lieutenant he had only silently joined her. It was one of those things that he had just known, whether it was through whatever it was that linked them—because something did link them, something more than memories and power that she’d never been able to quantify. Or whether he just did it because he thought he was supposed to. Either way, Rukia had appreciated his company all the same.

Beside her, Ichigo froze in the open entryway, and she realized that he had noticed the change in their gazes as well. A look that Rukia couldn’t quite recognize flashed across Ichigo’s face. Amber eyes darkening to burnt sienna, sweeping across the room. Ichigo had never done anything about the stares that followed him everywhere he went. Once, he had told her: “They can stare all they want, they don’t know shit.” Now he stood unmoving and she watched as he met the eyes of any and everyone who dared to look at her with those critical stares. His eyes locked with theirs with a dark glower, unrelenting until they broke under the pressure and looked away. 

Beside her, he sighed with something like resignation and took her small hand in his large one. 

Red bloomed across her cheeks, like splotchy rose coloured flowers growing under her skin. Spreading all the way from the tip of her nose to the edges of her ears. Her skin so hot it nearly burned. All the whispers and stare faded out as suddenly all she knew was him, beside her.

As they took their seats at the empty table reserved for them at the front of the room, she debated telling him off. Rukia was more than capable of fighting her own battles, and a few jealous looks didn’t bother her. But he knew that. He knew that, and he hadn’t done it because he thought she couldn’t--he might be an idiot, but he wasn’t completely without sense. Ichigo had done it because he wanted to. 

So Rukia said nothing. Not even when he didn’t let go of her hand until they separated to go to their own respective offices after lunch 

She’d never been so fully aware of how many nerves were in the hand. Every one of them where his skin touched hers seemed to be electrified. Neither of them had spoken as they ate. Rukia’s mind suddenly resided solely in her palm. His hand was so large compared to her own, she noticed absently, as she stuffed rice into her mouth. 

Later she tried not to acknowledge how her hand felt odd and empty. How as she signed papers she would recall the feel of his calloused palm against her own smooth one. 

Then a week passed, and still there had yet to be any adverse effects from their little fib. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. All they had to do was publicly eat lunch with each other and occasionally walk around the squad-thirteen grounds together, which was really no different from how they used to act. 

“Guess what?” Ichigo asked, late one afternoon when he strolled into her office still shirtless from the training session he had just come from a week into their _relationship_. “I just used the division training grounds.”

Rukia attempted to look anywhere but the contours of his chest, or the way sweat beaded up on his golden skin from the warmth of June. Only for her eyes to snag on the curvature of his hipbone, exposed by the low hang of his hakama. She couldn’t help but trace the muscles of his abdomen, to study the thin spider web of scars that ran over him like roads on a map

Her throat was dry when she finally found her voice. “Oh yeah? How did that go?” 

“Not a single audience member.” 

“That’s wonderful”

Still grinning he slumped down beside her, fully laying on the tatami floor. He sighed with content, and she couldn't help but smile at his mood as if it were contagious. 

She should have known better, in retrospect. Nothing ever went smoothly in her life, not without at least one little hiccup or bump in the road. There was simply no such things as smooth sailing for Rukia Kuchiki. Throw Ichigo into the mix, and life was like trying to drive a race-car with no brakes in bumper to bumper five-o’clock traffic

“So my two best friends decide to shack up, and I have to find out from _shinigami women’s association weekly_?”

There, standing in the doorway of her office (which had previously been closed, last time she checked) was Renji. Having been friends as long as Rukia and Renji had, it only took her a mere glance at his expression to discern he was surely woke up that morning and decided: _today would be a good day to get punched in the face._ It was a familiar expression to Rukia, one that Renji wore often. Usually around her. It looked something like smug satisfaction and smelled odd of bullshit. 

Ichigo grunted softly in response, the way he usually does when someone says something he deems absolutely ridiculous. “Forget how to knock, bastard?”

“Sorry, was I interrupting something?” Renji taunted, dangling the metaphorical carrot between the two.

Rukia often thought that testosterone should be treated as a highly dangerous, and in some cases (their cases), combustible substance. So much so that all men should come with a warning: _likely to explode for little to no reason._ The corner of Ichigo’s mouth twitched upwards, one of his many tells. Without a doubt, Rukia knew he would rise to the bait. 

“You fucking wish, you perverted--”

“I assume there is a reason that you’ve barged into my office, besides tormenting my lieutenant, that is.” she interrupted, fully aware that the two would push one another buttons until she was left with a damage report to fill out. 

Renji deflated nearly immediately, his attention turning to her, while Ichigo merely simmered silently beside her. “Yeah, actually I did. Two reasons. First, I’m hurt that neither of you told me. Second, Matsumoto is planning a party for you guys. Pretty sure she called it a ‘congratulations on figuring out what the rest of us already knew’ party. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I figured you guys would hate that shit.”

Rukia did indeed _hate that shit._

Matsumoto’s infamous surprise parties usually met a specific set of criteria: they were all thrown under dubious contexts that usually didn’t require a surprise party or any party at all; they have always been held in the squad ten barracks without Captain Hitsugaya’s permission, and nearly always ended in the destruction of seireitei property. 

Rukia Kuchiki was smart enough to know this party for what it truly was. Psychological Warfare. Most people often mistook Matsumoto for someone who lacked substance, but Rukia was not most people. Matsumoto was capable of manipulating people into achieving her goal, and convincing them it had been their own idea the entire time. There were a few times that Matsumoto did not get what she wanted. Both she and Ichigo had managed to avoid all of Matsumoto’s parties for the past few weeks, much to the other women’s complaint. This party wasn’t a party at all, but a well thought out ploy. How could either of them skip out on a party that was thrown _for them_?

One look at Ichigo and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Judging by the greenish tinge that he skin had acquired.

Renji, looked as though he was relishing in their reactions. The sadist. 

“Ah,” Rukia managed. “How thoughtful of her.” 

Renji chuckled at her dripping lack of excitement in her tone. “I thought you might think so. Anyways, it starts at eight in the tenth barracks.” 

Renji didn’t dare stick around to suffer the consequences as Rukia filtered through the five stages of grief at lightning speed, only to come full circle and land fully back on stage two: anger. No, he blew out just as quickly as he had blown in. Rukia wondered absently if he had plans to crush anyone else’s dreams today, or if she was just special. 

_Peace._ That was all she wanted. Surely, she had earned it. She had fought hard in the war-- _wars._ Hell, she was the one who had given the “world saviour” Ichigo Kurosaki his powers in the first place. None of them would even be here without him, therefore consequentially, they would also not be there without her. 

Rukia Kuchiki had more than earned her peace, and she would get it.

“No.” Announced Ichigo from beside her, glowering at her beneath his sharply angled brows. 

“I didn't even say anything,” She huffed. 

“Your face did.” He told her with a worrying lack of hesitation, and she found this only mildly concerning because she was unaware her face spoke to him. “I know that face. It’s your scheming face.”

“It won’t be that bad. We can go for an hour, have a drink, then pretend Kiyone and Sentaro set the division on fire and we have to go put it out.” He told her in an admirable attempt to be the reasonable one between the two of them. A role that they often switched, as it was simply just not conductive for both of them to be their natural unreasonable states.

Rukia scowled at him, “I am the captain of the thirteenth division, and I refuse to be strong-armed into doing anything that I do not want to do by a drunk bimbo.”

There’s a moment where Rukia watches as Ichigo considers telling her that he doubted Matsumoto would appreciate being called a _drunk bimbo_ before he remembered just who Matsumoto is, and that she would indeed consider it a compliment. Instead, he says, “Fine. So, what’s the plan?”

Her plan was simple: All they had to do was pay a surprise visit to the captain of the tenth division, and thank him for throwing them a party congratulating them on their relationship. 

Ichigo smiled wickedly as she told him of her simple, yet surely effective plan.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia and Ichigo attempt to get an audience with Captain Hitsugaya in order to stop Matsumoto's party. Rangiku does everything in her power to stop them.

“What do you mean, you cant let us in?” Rukia’s voice sounded as if it were balanced on a needlepoint, teetering precariously in each direction verging on tipping over a paper-thin edge as she debated whether it was professional to pull rank on a man who was simply doing his job because it inconvenienced her. 

The guard who stood before the gate into the tenth division was young. Barely out of the academy if she had to guess. He was tall and lanky and wearing a uniform that barely fit him. At the mere sight of her and Ichigo, the poor boy had broken out into a thick sweat. “My lieutenant gave me express orders not to open the gate for anyone today.” 

“Anyone?” Asked Ichigo from behind her, his pinky finger stuck in his ear as if he wasn't quite sure he’d heard right and was attempting to clean his ear out. He scowled down at the boy. “Or, did she say anyone but us?”

The boy gulped audibly, looking between the two of them. There was a beat as he considered his next words carefully before he landed on diplomacy. “I’m not the one who makes the rules, sir--”

Rukia snorts at  _ sir. _

Ichigo’s glower shifts from the boy to her. 

“--I”m just the one who enforces them. If you would like me to get Lieutenant Matsumoto, I would be happy too.”

“Or, I could just make you let us in.” Ichigo considers. A peculiar glint flashes through his eyes the way that sunlight catches on a freshly sharpened blade. 

Rukia can't stop herself from thinking about that look. How it reminds her so much of a caged animal, and how it is everything the opposite of the look she so often watched filter over his face in battle. Ichigo had been born a fighter. No matter what he said about others picking on him because of this hair colour, his reputation as a delinquent had not entirely been baseless. Behind the scowl and glare of determination he bore while in battle, Rukia had watched him fight enough times to spy something like exhilaration in between the lines of his face. Peace seemed to fall upon Ichigo like an ill-fitting suit. It was as if he were a natural disaster bottled up in man, always looking for an outlet. 

All the colour drains from the guard’s face, and for a moment Rukia thinks he might let them through. To his credit, he doesn't. The boy stands his ground, even if he does look like he might wet his pants. 

“Relax,” Rukia tells the poor boy. though, despite her words he does not. “We’ll just find another way in.” 

There is a second where the kid's shoulders sag in relief before the meaning of her words hits him. By then Ichigo and Rukia have already turned their backs on him, and are walking away. Ichigo offers him a mocking wave over his shoulder. 

“So you have a backup plan, right?” Asks Ichigo, when they're barely out of hearing range. His hands are interlocked behind his neck, in a manner that reminds her so much of his younger self. 

“Of course I do.”  
Rukia did not have a backup plan, but sometimes the best ideas are born out of desperation. It was time for her to Improvise. 

  
  
  


Twenty minutes later found them hiding in an alley behind the tenth division, Rukia with a bundle of clothes in her arms, Ichigo squinting down into her arms with barely disguised disgust. 

“What the hell is that?” Ichigo says, eyeing the offending object with caution. 

Rukia scoffs, he truly could be thick. “It’s a disguise.” 

“That’s not a disguise. That’s  _ identity theft,  _ Rukia. Do I even want to know where you got this stuff?” Asks Ichigo in disbelief, holding up a pink cherry blossom patterned haori. 

To tell the truth, it had only taken her ten minutes to find all the materials needed for her master plan. “It’s Ikkaku and Yumichika’s Halloween costume from last year.”

Ichigo looked at the haori in his hands, then back at her. It took a moment for his brain to compute her words. The moment it truly clicked, he clamped a hand over his mouth turning his head away from her in an attempt to hide his laughter. An attempt that failed miserably. It took him five whole minutes to regain his composure. “ _ Are you serious?”  _ he asked her between gasps of choked laughter. “They dressed up as  _ Kyoraku and Nanao  _ for Halloween? Please tell me there are pictures.”

“There are, and if you behave I’ll show them to you.”  
“Wait,” he says, sobering. “If this stuff belongs to them, how did you get it?”

Rukia had thought originally that she was going to have to steal it from Ikkaku and Yumichika. She had gone so far as to sneak into the eleventh division residence (not surprisingly their security was slightly laxer than the tenth). Made it all the way to Ikkaku’s quarters when she had been caught red-handed and head first in his closet. Luckily Ikkaku seemed to be more at a loss by her presence, than angry. When she’d explained what she was doing, and what she needed it for, he’d handed over the costumes more than willingly. On one condition. 

“I asked for them.”

Ichigo eyes her suspiciously. “And they just gave them to you?”

“Yes.” Rukia hoped her expression gave nothing away. She sighs. “Just put it on, Ichigo.”

This is where she anticipated that she was going to run into resistance. Ichigo stares at the clothing between them and lets out a breath of resignation. There was a moment where he said nothing at all.

Then, “I don't have a choice, do I?”

“Nope.”

The look he gives her reminds her oddly of a wet, angry cat. Still, he shrugs off the badge wrapped around his arm and slips the haori over his shoulders. He grabs the rest of his disguise from her outstretched arms, then points an accusing finger in her face. “I am the best lieutenant ever. When this is over, I'm applying for a raise.”

She chuckles at his indignations and begins to put on her own disguise. Quickly she adjusts the part of her hair and ties it into a knot at the base of her skull, allowing the ends to escape just how the lieutenant of the first does. Thankfully Nanao is a reasonable woman, and assuming her identity doesn't require much from Rukia besides a pair of fake glasses, a lieutenant's badge, a clipboard, and a different hairstyle. The same cannot be said for Ichigo.

When she turns to look at Ichigo, the noise that escapes her is something between a snort and a gasp. The only thing that keeps her from divulging into howls of laughter when she looks at him is the knowledge that they are so close to the tenth division and she can't risk someone coming to check out the commotion. Leaving her only allowed to erupt into silent suppressed giggles.

“Oh my god.” she gasps. This was truly too good. 

“Arent disguises supposed to make you blend in?” he asks. 

Blend in, Ichigo did not. The haori slung over his shoulders was a near-exact replica of the new captain commanders, leaving Rukia with no doubt that Yumichika was the one who sourced the costume. Ichigo had gone as far as to pull open the front of his uniform the way Kyoraku did, exposing his chest slightly. Even the hat and the eyepatch looked like they could have belonged to the man himself. 

The thing that got her, was the wig. She couldn't look at it for more than a second before losing her composure. It wasn't nearly as good as the rest of the costume, and without a doubt came from the living world. It wasn't that the wig was bad quality. It was just that the long luscious wavy locks looked so completely, utterly ridiculous framing Ichigo’s unimpressed scowl.

“Stop laughing at me.” 

She was trying, honest to god. It was only that it was so incredibly hard. 

Ichigo’s scowl deepens. “This is never going to work. You’re insane.”

“I prefer creative.” Smiles Rukia. “That young guard was so scared of you, that he could barely look you in the eye. These costumes will work only because that guard won't even look at us if he thinks you're the captain commander.”

Then, much to the confusion of Ichigo, she inserts the ends of both pinky fingers into her mouth, and whistles. 

Ikkaku and Yumichika had given Rukia the disguises, but Rukia never said that they had given them to her for  _ free.  _ Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Rukia had done what needed to be done. There was always a price to pay. 

It was just that Ichigo was the one “paying” this particular price

At her signal two heads appear at the edge of the roof above them, peering down into the alley. There is a sudden flash of a camera going off, followed by the distinct sound of unrestrained laughter. The look that darkens Ichigo’s face suggests murderous intentions. A vein throbs dangerously in his forehead

“Run!” cried Ikkaku. 

As fast as they arrived, Ikkaku and Yumichika scrambled away, bounty in hand. Rukia had a feeling the next issue of the shinigami women's association weekly was going to be particularly interesting.

Ichigo turns to her. “I hate you so much right now.”

“You’ll get over it.” He would, eventually. “It's time to infiltrate the tenth division.”

  
  


Rukia’s plan would have worked. She believed that one hundred percent. If the one to open the gate had been the same guard as before, not Matsumoto.

Matsumoto took one look at them and nearly lost the ability to stand, bent over clutching her sides as she divulged into a fit of laughter. Her face was turning bright red from the lack of oxygen as she laughed so hard that she could barely breathe. In retrospect, Rukia should have anticipated that the guard would have told Matsumoto they had tried to get in. 

Ichigo ripped the wig off, throwing it as far away from himself as he could manage. “I told you this wouldn't work.” 

Matsumoto recovers herself enough to ask, “Is that Ikkaku and Yumichika’s Halloween costume from last year?”

Rukia, more than slightly annoyed that she had been outmaneuvered not once, but twice now, frowns. “Yes.”

Matsumoto’s laughter begins with renewed ferocity. “I admire your efforts, Rukia-chan.” then in all seriousness she says, “But you will have to try harder than that.” Matsumoto shuts the gate to the tenth division in their face with a playful wink. 

Rukia turns to Ichigo, “Time for plan C.”

“ _ No. _ ”

Rukia crossed her arms over her chest, tipping her chin upwards. “I refuse to concede, Ichigo. I have gone too far to go back now.”

Ichigo stared at her for a moment, “If I get us into the tenth division, will you stop being annoying?”

Rukia grinned, now  _ that  _ was what she wanted to hear. “Possibly.”

  
  
  


Rukia had no words. Absolutely none. She was a captain of the thirteen court guard squads, and she didn’t know there were  _ secret tunnels _ below the seireitei? She stares, mouth slightly agape at the rusted metal ladder that disappeared into the shadows below. 

No. That was a lie, she had many words. “How long have you known about this?” 

Ichigo grins at her accusatory tone, the cheeky bastard. “These tunnels are how I got around the seireitei when we came to rescue you. That's how no one found us.”

At the mention of Ichigo invading the seireitei the memory of him standing before her, the flaming sokyoku at his back comes to mind. Until the day she died and was thrown back into the cycle of life and reincarnation, perhaps even into her next life, she would remember that moment. How it felt to close her eyes in something like acceptance, but not quite. Heat licking at her cheeks, the brilliance of the sokyoku’s flames visible even through her closed eyelids. As if she were looking straight at the sun. Then for that heat to come so close, but never reach her.

She’d felt him before she ever saw him. His spiritual pressure washed over her like a cool breeze in a heatwave. He’d always been horrible at controlling it. To this day it was like standing ankle-deep in summer warm lake water just to be next to him (Other days he felt like the vast and endless ocean, depending on the weather). Still, she hadn't dared believe it until she opened her eyes and saw for herself. 

It was the look in his eyes that had made her realize. Eyes the colour of liquid bronze, full of enough determination for the both of them. Eyes that spoke without words:  _ I refuse to live in a world without you in it.  _ One look into them and she knew her very existence was changed forever. That her life as she knew it had been flipped on its axis. 

Today, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Ladies first.” Offered Ichigo, waving gallantly at the entrance to the tunnel. 

Despite knowing that he is merely being mocking, Rukia steps down onto the ladder, pausing only to give him the middle finger. The metal rungs of the ladder are cold against her palms and rough from age, but they don't bend under her weight as she feared. Darkness swaths overhead as she climbs down, and Ichigo replaces the street tile above their heads. The tunnels smell odd of bleach and mildew as if someone had recently tried to clean but had done a poor job. She pauses at the bottom of the ladder to take in the orange glow of the tunnels and the way it never seemed to end, only taper off into the darkness. 

Ichigo drops down beside her, nearly silent except for the scrape of his sandals against the concrete. 

“Which way to the tenth?” he asks her.

Rukia blinks. “Huh?” He had to be kidding.

Except Ichigo makes no haste to correct himself. Only stared down at her expectantly. 

“I didn't even know these tunnels _existed_ five minutes ago. How am I supposed to know where to go?”  
Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve lived in the seireitei for like a hundred years. Shouldn’t you know how to get to the tenth?”

“I do. Just not  _ underground. _ ”

Ichigo scowls into the dark tunnel in one direction, then the other. “Well, I think it’s this way.”

Without even giving her a chance to discuss it with him, he stalks off ahead. Leaving her staring at the back of the pink haori he had obviously forgotten to take off. If she were nicer, she’d tell him. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t.

“You think?” She questions, taking off after him. “Your confidence is so reassuring.”

“Well, we have a fifty-fifty chance. Either we go forwards or back. I’ve beat worse odds than that.”

While he wasn’t exactly wrong, it didn’t make her feel better. It was too late to turn back now, she supposed. At least if he turned out to be wrong, the blame would fall on him. 

So they walked in near silence. The tunnels stretch endlessly before them. Rukia felt hyper-aware of every echoing sound that filled the tunnels—the staccato drip of condensation from the ceiling above them. the steady rush of the sewage beside them. Both her and Ichigo’sfootsteps. 

Until suddenly it wasn’t just their footsteps she was listening to.

She grabbed Ichigo by the fabric of his sleeve. In a hurried whisper, she told him, “Someone’s coming.”

“So?”

“ _ So _ I don’t want any witnesses catching us trying to break into the tenth.”

For a moment Ichigo looked as though he might argue, then the quick footsteps seemed to inch closer. Quickly, he grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. “There has to be a supply closet up here.”

How he even knew that was a mystery, but indeed, there was a supply closet. Ichigo pushes her inside with more force than she thinks was necessary, her back brushing a line of shelves. Once inside himself, Ichigo shuts the door behind them.

As it turns out, supply closets were not made with hiding two fully grown adults in mind. While Rukia often considered her and Ichigo to be close—closer than most, some have even said inseparable. It was not often that found herself in a situation where every inch of herself was pressed against him. So if her face burned at the proximity, she wouldn’t stand for it to be held against her. 

“How long do you think we need to hide in here?” he asked, eyes fixated on the ceiling. 

“We have to be sure whoever it is has gone, so I’m not sure.” Rukia shifted, attempting without prevail to put some space between them, only to end up pressed harder into his front.

Ichigo’s hands flew up to grip her sides. “Please don't do that.”

Rukia chewed her lip, letting silence fall over them like a veil. Time seemed to stretch with no way to tell how long had passed. She stood there for as long as she could bear, mentally going over what she would say to Captain Hitsugaya when she finally got in the tenth division. She thought of anything she could, if only not to think about Ichigo and how he couldn't seem to figure out where to put his hands. How he rotated between letting them hang at his sides and resting them on her hips. 

“We can probably get out now,” his voice floated through the dark, his tone strange. 

Rukia reached for the door handle--only to find empty air. It was then that it dawned on her, that typically opened storage closets from the outside. 

“Ichigo.”

“Rukia?”

“There's no door handle.”

There was a beat where he said nothing at all, then, “What do you mean there's no door handle?”

While it wasn't entirely his fault, Rukia decided it was  _ mostly  _ his fault, which was good enough for her. Furious, she whispered, “I mean we're stuck in here.”

“No.” Ichigo shifted, “Maybe I can just bust it open,”

Before Rukia could tell him not to, Ichigo lifted his knee in an attempt to get enough leverage to kick back at the door. Which might have worked. If Rukia were not standing directly in front of him with no way to back up, or to the side, leaving the only room from his leg  _ between hers.  _

Rukia caught his leg with a hand on his thigh, just before it was too late. “I promise you, that will not work.”

Ichigo, seemingly coming to the same conclusion she had, removed his leg with barely concealed haste. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

Rukia made an admirable attempt at shrugging. “Wait?”

“Wait for  _ what _ , Rukia?’

“Someone to need this supply closet.” 

Though she could not see his expression in the dark, just barely the gleam of his eyes through the shadows, she knew the exact look he was giving her. It was the same look he gave her when she insisted on sleeping in the closet every time they visited the living world. The same look he gave her when she showed him one of her drawings (Or when she plastered his living quarters with them). 

“We're going to die here,” he said, speaking to the air, more than he was speaking to her.

“Don't be melodramatic.”

He said nothing else after that, opting rather to settle into a forced silence while they waited. After what felt like ages, Rukia began to wonder if he wasn't so wrong after all, and years from now someone would find their skeletons huddled together like the mummified lovers found in Egypt. 

God, he was warm, she thought. Even through the fabric of his uniform she could feel the heat radiating off his skin seeping into her. They were so close that her chest was pressed against his, the hard planes of him pinned by the softer curves of her. She was positioned in such a way so that her cheek was just below his sternum, and her ear right above his heart. Without any words, she listened as his heartbeat raced through his ribcage. 

“You’re crushing my spleen.” he breathed. 

She tilted her chin so that she was looking up at him, only to find him already staring down at her. “You don't even know where the spleen is, fool.”

He doesn't argue, but she spies the corner of his mouth catching on the fraction of a smile through the darkness. His eyes wander from her own, over the arch of her cheekbone, then pause inexplicably on the swell of her bottom lip. 

Suddenly she is caught-- trapped with no way to put space between them. There are times when she can look at him, and know exactly what is going through his head. But at that moment for the first time since she can remember, he is a mystery to her. In that dark, even with so little space between them, she can't comprehend what he is thinking looking at her like that with no one else around, with no need to pretend. They didn't need to pretend here, and yet he looked at her as though...as though he wanted nothing more than to erase the distance between them--to do more than just stare at her lips in the dark.

She tells herself that she is just imagining things. Except the space between them seems to warp and grow smaller with every second. 

“Rukia,” his voice the barest shadow of a whisper, low and grumbling. Her name sounds both like a question and a plea on his tongue. “Can I--”

Cold air rushes into the supply closet as the door swings open. 

Both Rukia and Ichigo blink, wide-eyed at each other, the moment gone. Rukia peers around Ichigo's shoulder, and standing in the doorframe looking just as shocked (if not more) was Yamada Hanataro. 

Heat rushes to Hanataro’s face, brilliant red. In haste to cover his eyes, he drops the broom he's holding, the resulting clatter of it hitting the ground echoing through the tunnels. “I'm so sorry!”

Ichigo scratches the back of his neck, face scrunching comically as he attempts to think of an explanation to tell him. 

Hanataro peeks at them through his fingers. “Is this some sort of roleplay?”

That's when Rukia remembers they are both still dressed as Kyoraku and Nanao.

“No!” cries Ichigo.

At the same time, Rukia says, “Yes.”

Ichigo’s head whips so fast to look at her that she thinks he might break his neck. “ _ Rukia. _ ”

Heat licks at her cheeks at the sound of him saying her name, the memory of how he whispered it in the dark only seconds before is still fresh in her mind. She knew now though, that he had only done it as cover. Surely he had sensed Hanataro coming, and do the only thing he could think of to cover why they were hiding in a closet. It was ingenious, actually. 

In the light of the tunnel, something similar to disappointment festers in her stomach before she can stop it. The question though, is disappointment at  _ what? _

They stumbled out of the closet, neither Rukia nor Ichigo looking at Hanataro, and Hanataro pointedly not looking at them. Luckily for both their sakes Ichigo has the sense to ask for directions to the tenth division before Hanatarou can scramble off.

As soon as Hanataro is gone, Ichigo turns to her. The expression he wears is peculiar and pinched, one she identifies as his thinking face after a moment. Rukia waits for him to say something, every potential word hanging over her head like the blade of a guillotine.

But the look passes, and instead, he says, “Let's go.”

  
  
  


When Hitsugaya Toushirou makes it past lunch without so much as a knock on his office door or a hell butterfly addressed to his name, he should have known that something was off. There were only two reasons why such things would happen: one, Matsumoto was still passed out drunk from the night before. Or two, Matsumoto had something planned, and she was avoiding him like the plague. 

Only Matsumoto was sitting directly across from him, quietly working on the paperwork that had been building up on her desk for the last several weeks. When he arrived to work that morning she had already been there. Cheerily, without so much as a hint of a hangover, she had quipped “Morning, Captain!” and went straight back to work. At first, he had thought he was hallucinating or had accidentally stepped into an alternate universe when he had entered his office. Those were much more likely explanations for Matsumoto's strange behavior than assuming she was just  _ doing what she was supposed to.  _ Toushirou had gone as far as to walk back out of the room, and walk back in as if to attempt to reset the universe like a misbehaving computer. Matsumoto had merely giggled, all while signing another document, and said: “You’re acting strange today, Captain.”

So when Ichigo Kurosaki burst into his office without so much as a knock, around two in the afternoon, his petite Captain yelling something about  _ manners  _ and  _ insolent fools _ at his heels, Toshirou was almost relieved. He knew then that the world was not in fact tilted on its axis, but merely saving his daily amount of suffering for this very moment. 

“Is there something that I can help you with?” Ground Toshirou between clenched teeth. He refuses to acknowledge the fact that they seem to be in some sort of costume, dressed up as the Captain Commander and his lieutenant. The less he thinks about it, the more likely he'll be able to forget it. God forbid an image such as this is added to the ones that already haunt his dreams.

To give them credit, the two of them snapped out of their arguing much faster than they usually did. They both plastered identical polite smiles on their faces, smiles that said to Toushirou clearly they were up to something. Wasn’t there a rule about a Captain dating their lieutenant, he wondered to himself. There should be a rule. 

Though, these two would just break it. 

Rukia coughed softly, clearing her throat, and stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “We only came to give you our thanks, Captain.” The twitch in her smile was unmistakable. As if she were nearly unable to contain herself from breaking out into a grin.

Across the room, Matsumoto stiffened in her seat. 

“Yes,” continued Ichigo, his grin a little less refined than his partner, and verging on maniacal. “We know that you rarely allow Matsumoto to throw parties at the tenth division. So we wanted to thank you for allowing her to throw us one in celebration of our new relationship.”

Suddenly Hitsugaya Toshirou had a very clear idea of what was unfolding before him. Matsumoto had been complaining for weeks that the two of them had managed to avoid her parties. Where she got the audacity to complain to him about such things after the damage these events caused, he could not begin to fathom. Matsumoto was manipulating them into attending her party, by throwing the party in their honour. These two were not here to  _ thank him  _ for allowing her to throw them this party, they were using him to get out of attending it by getting the whole thing shut down. 

Toshirou was caught between who to yell at first when Matsumoto groaned from her desk. 

“Maaa,” She said disappointedly, “It was supposed to be a surprise! Who told? It was that stupid Renji, wasn’t it?”

Neither Ichigo, nor Rukia said a word, but their expressions spoke volumes. It was most definitely Abarai. 

Matsumoto clicked her tongue in disbelief, she stared at them with mockingly innocent blue eyes. “Did he tell you that I got special permission for your family to come to the party? Your sisters are so excited to see you, I can't believe he ruined the surprise!”

Hitsugaya Toushirou was no fool, and he knew better than most that his lieutenant wasn't one, either. She knew full well that Abarai wouldn't have ruined that surprise for his friends. With those two sentences alone she had somehow backed not only Ichigo and Rukia into a corner, but Toushirou himself. There was simply no way that Ichigo could refuse to go to a party now that he knew his family whom he had not seen in months would be there, which in turn made Rukia obligated to attend. But more impressively, she had managed to ensure that Toushirou could not force her into canceling the event simply by mentioning Ichigo Kurosaki’s sisters. Or more specifically one dark-haired sister. 

Rukia was the one who found her voice first in the aftermath of Matsumoto’s bomb, attesting to her being a Kuchiki. “No. Renji did not tell us that.”

“Oh no? Well, spilled the beans now, I guess.” Matsumoto said, with a wink curiously directed at Toshirou. 

Toshirou sighed in defeat. Their attempt had been admirable, but nothing stood in the way of Matsumoto and her parties. This he has learned the hard way. “You both are very much welcome.” He told the (somewhat) happy couple. “I will see you both there tonight.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about how long this chapter took! I'm battling a severe case of writer's block at the moment. I hope you all enjoy it :) This fic has become a living breathing thing in my mind. Each chapter seems to be a little crazier than the one before, but that's entirely why this fic has been so fun to read. I'm not near done yet, so keep reading and subscribe!


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